


It's Not Easy Being Green

by FeelingFredly



Category: Bleach
Genre: Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Memories, Not a lot of action here, Post-Canon, no beta/no problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 06:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17823638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFredly/pseuds/FeelingFredly
Summary: While many people have questioned some of Urahara's decisions, EVERYONE wonders why the weird green outfit. Kisuke, though, doesn't like to talk about it.





	It's Not Easy Being Green

**Author's Note:**

> Just wandering around in my favorite blond's memories. Enjoy a peek into the past.

“Ow! Shit! Kisuke,” Ichigo called from the bedroom, “what the hell?  Why do you have the damn dresser booby-trapped?”

Kisuke frowned a little to himself as he headed down the hallway.

“Did you try to open the drawer I told you was off limits?”

The redhead came out shaking his burned hand.  His eyebrows were drawn tightly together in pain and he glared.

“I was just trying to put the laundry away.  Tessai was finishing up the dango and he asked me to put your clothes in the drawer.  He didn’t tell me I should get combat pay for doing his chores.”

Kisuke sighed.  Tessai designed the seal on the chest, so opening it was no trouble for him.  No one else had ever had access to Kisuke’s private rooms until recently. It probably didn’t even occur to him that Ichigo wouldn’t be able to open it; Kisuke had given him free access to every other aspect of the Shōten… even the labs.  The dresser shouldn’t have been an issue.

But somehow it was.

Kisuke snagged Ichigo’s hands and murmured a healing kidō spell, allowing the green glow to fill the space between them instead of an explanation.

“I’m sorry you were injured, Ichigo-kun.” Kisuke dropped a quick kiss to the younger man’s temple.  “Better, now?”

Ichigo flexed his fingers, his scowl fading into something more like curiosity.

“Yeah, thanks.” Ichigo jerked a thumb in the direction of the bedroom.  “I dropped the laundry, though.  Sorry.”

Kisuke patted him on the shoulder, and gently pushed past him in the narrow hallway.  “That’s understandable in the circumstances.  I will take care of it.  Why don’t you go to the kitchen and see if Tessai-san has anything else you could help with?”

Ichigo gave him a look and Kisuke braced himself for questions that never came.  He wasn’t that surprised.  Ichigo, of all people, understood the value of privacy.  Instead, the redhead reached up and gave him a tender kiss, an unusual exhibition of affection that said clearly that as far as he was concerned, whatever Kisuke was keeping hidden was okay. Then, he wandered off towards the front of the house.

Kisuke watched him walk away.  He was an amazing man, and Kisuke knew he was lucky things had worked out the way they had.  So much of what he’d done could have tipped the scales against him.  He would never have known this acceptance.  This peace.

The sex was nothing to sneeze at, either.

The bedroom door was ajar, and he closed it behind him.  The pile of green fabric on the floor in front of the dresser was a silent testament to the truth of Ichigo’s explanation, not that he’d ever believe a Kurosaki capable of such bald-faced lying.  If he’d wanted in the drawer, he’d simply have pestered Kisuke until he gave in. And Kisuke would have.  It was a sad truth that there was nothing he would deny his love if he asked.  He was just grateful that Ichigo had restraint enough not to push.

The seal on the drawer was intact but had changed from gold to red to show that someone had interfered with it.  Tessai had created it in the months after their banishment to the Living World, realizing quickly that there was going to be a need to be able hide things from prying eyes if they were going to actually try to live among the humans.

A grimace twisted Kisuke’s lips.  The whole thing was overly dramatic and sentimental.  Shinji would harass him unmercifully if he knew, and that would come after Hiyori had her turn tormenting him.

He unraveled the seal and opened the drawer, parting the protective layer of silk that covered the contents.

Kisuke ran the jinbei through his fingers, marveling at how well the fabric held up under the protective seal.  No one would believe it was almost a hundred years old.

Well, everyone who knew him would believe it, but still, it really was in unusually good shape.

Castaway in the human world, with no lab and no materials he’d struggled with his first gigai. Tessai and the Visored had preferred to remain in their spirit forms rather than deal with the problems of fitting into a world not meant for them.  Kisuke, though, had realized that they would need something to bargain with if they were ever to regain even footing with Soul Society.  He needed to find something to trade on that would ensure their safety.  Something Soul Society would not want to lose once they’d gotten it, and to do that, he had to tap the local resources.

He’d been in Soul Society for so long that he hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to fit in.  He was too tall.  Too blond. He was lucky that there’d recently been an influx of Europeans, and he’d taken advantage of the new political climate. He created a history for himself as the son of missionaries from Nagasaki who moved to the area outside Tokyo after they died. It didn’t matter that he knew next to nothing about the religion; none of the locals knew anything about it either.  All his neighbors cared about was that he was able to fix almost anything, from ox-carts to fevers, was hard-working, and respectful of the locals and their customs.

He’d worn something akin to his shihakusho in the beginning out of habit, but it drew too much attention.  He didn’t want to look like someone ready for a fight, because that was usually how you found you found yourself in the middle of one. Kimono were too restrictive for some things, and when he wore samue, he found that dressing like a Buddhist priest made people want you to act like one. 

One blistering hot summer day, though, he’d been called to a nearby farm to help with a broken irrigation pump and well.  He’d sweated through his kimono in no time, dripping miserably as he and the nine-year-old eldest son of the household repaired the ancient pipes.  His mother had been widowed the year before when her husband ran afoul of a wild boar in the woods, and Kisuke knew she was struggling to keep the household afloat. Many of the elders had pushed for her to remarry, but she refused. She was determined to keep her independence, and to make the property that had meant so much to her husband profitable, and Kisuke couldn’t help but feel a kinship with someone else struggling to support so many who depended on them.

Luckily, he’d developed a reputation as a fair businessman and when he suggested that she wait to pay him for his services until after the harvest season she accepted gratefully, and they’d agreed on a price that she could pay when funds became available. 

It was only a few days later, though, that he’d received a package.  It was neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with a length of expensive silk ribbon.  The little boy who delivered it looked just like his older brother but had handed over the package with a series of jerky bows before running off without saying a word. The note that accompanied it simply said, “A humble gift for you, Urahara-san. May it bring you comfort in the days to come.”

The green was muted, a small gray stripe marking the texture of the fabric.  The shoulder-seams were loosely sewn to allow air movement, and Kisuke marveled that the woman had been able to produce something of such fine quality in such a short period of time.

He’d changed into it immediately, the jinbei wrapped comfortably around him, and Tessai had raised an eyebrow at the style.

“Doesn’t it suit me, Tessai-san?” he’d asked. Tessai had just shrugged.

He wore it all summer and every time he washed it, he marveled at the quality of it and sent gracious thoughts to the woman who’d given him such an unusually useful gift.

It wasn’t until September, after the rice had been harvested, that Kisuke saw the woman again. 

“Urahara-san,” she greeted him.  She was standing over a basket of chestnuts at the grocer's stall and she looked truly pleased to see him.  “This is most fortuitous! I was hoping to run into you.”

Kisuke bowed deeply.  The woman was handsome, and the colorful layers of her kimono set off the healthy color of her skin and the sparkle in her eyes.

“I am happy to see you well, Ogawa-san.” He dipped his head again. “I could not resist the call of the chestnuts.  A friend told me I could expect them at the market today, and I can see that he was not mistaken.”

Ogawa-san nodded again.  Her impulsive smile faded when she realized that he was wearing the jinbei she had given him, and she inclined her head in the direction of the end of the row of shop stalls.

“If you could perhaps delay your chestnut hunt a few minutes longer, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”

She turned to the young woman walking with her. “Akko-chan, would you please find your brother?  I believe he ran down to the blacksmith’s shop to ask about the nails I ordered.  I will meet you by the potter’s stall in a few minutes and we can pick up the new teapot. Hm?”

The girl looked at Kisuke curiously but did as her mother bid.

“She is a good girl,” Ogawa-san said, watching her hurry away. “She tolerates all of her mother's whims. I have been very lucky since my husband died. And it all culminated with a broken water pipe.”

Kisuke looked at her enquiringly.  It was unusual for a woman to be as forthright as Ogawa-san, but she’d shown before that she wasn’t a typical farmer’s wife.

“I hope you will bear with me for a moment, Urahara-san.” She looked a little nervous, but she flexed her fingers minutely in the edges of her kimono sleeves and stiffened her spine. “When my husband died, I didn’t know what to do.  I had helped him, as a wife should, but I admit I had ideas about the farm that troubled his traditional mind. Notions of how things might be done more efficiently, or safely. Someday. And then suddenly I found myself in a position to create something that would be a huge help to the rice farmers, and I gambled everything I had on making it work.”

Kisuke walked silently along, his mind spinning.  He had heard a few rumors in town, but even after all this time he was an outsider and gossip took a long time to reach him. 

“I proceeded with the planting as usual.  My neighbors went above and beyond to help, even if I was challenging the elders and the normal way of things by not remarrying and letting another man take over the farm.”

She stopped and stared into the distance, her mind clearly far away.

“It was hard sometimes. There were so many doors shut in my face just because of who I was. It was... disheartening. Please believe me, my husband was a good man.  I have been blessed with healthy children.  However, I wanted something else. Something I could call my own.  And now I have it.” She turned her face to Kisuke. “Thanks to you.”

Kisuke shook his head.  “I don’t know what you’re speaking of, all I did was extend a little generosity to a neighbor.  I don’t…”

Ogawa-san raised a hand.

“What you did was exactly what no one else was willing to do.  You gave me, a widowed woman alone, a chance. Urahara-san, you believed that I would uphold my end of our bargain.  You treated me as an equal.  And by extending that _generosity_ you mentioned, you gave me the financial flexibility to continue with the project of my heart. My invention. Something, I am happy to say, I have just returned from selling to a company in Tokyo.”

Kisuke's curiosity was piqued. “An invention?”

She smiled and nodded. “I designed a rice transplanting wheel that should cut down the time it takes to plant a paddy the size of mine down to two days only using the labor of two people.  Two days!”

Kisuke stared at her.  If what she was saying was true, it would change…  everything.

“You built…?”

Ogawa-san shook her head.  “Not exactly.  I admit, I have very little skill with actually building the things I think of.  If I were better at that, I wouldn’t have had to ask you to help with the pump in the first place.”  She smiled. “I am glad that I asked, though.  And I am glad that you accepted my token of gratitude at the time.”

She waved her fan up and down indicating the jinbei Kisuke was wearing.

“I ordered that for my husband as a surprise, but…” she looked away, sadness flitting quickly across her face. “Well, it would have been a shame to leave it sitting unused on a shelf when it clearly suited you.”

She looked back again.  “I hope that doesn’t bother you.  That it was not made for you.”

Kisuke shook his head and bowed briefly.  “I do not mind at all, Ogawa-san.  As a matter of fact, in some ways it makes it an even greater gift.”

Ogawa-san gave a little smile and bowed her head in return. “I am pleased.  I am also pleased to be able to pay you for your services as we agreed, but I wanted the chance to explain.  I wanted you to understand that on that day, you changed my life for the better. Thank you, Urahara-san.”

They parted then, Ogawa-san to meet up with her family, and Kisuke to get Tessai’s chestnuts.  After that he received his payment as promised, but it was the jinbei that he always considered the most important part of that transaction.

Everyone asked why he always wore the same outfit?  Why wear something so old-fashioned? Why the green?  Why? Why?

He admitted that it was an illogical decision. Part of it was that the jinbei was the first "uniform" he truly felt belonged to him. He’d been dressed by the Shihōin, first as a retainer, then as a member of the Second.  He’d worn the Captain’s haori for Yoruichi, and then even that had been taken from him.  The jinbei was just…  his.  Add to it the fact that every time he put it on, he remembered that there was one time that instead of screwing things up he’d actually helped someone.  He’d made a difference. Full stop.

It was a good enough reason for him.

“Hey, Kisuke?” Ichigo was outside the door. “Everything okay in there?”

_Even now he’s giving me space_ , Kisuke thought ruefully. _I am a ridiculous old man to be keeping silly secrets. Ichigo wouldn’t laugh. He’d understand._

He refolded the jinbei and placed it carefully on his lap.

“Come in, Ichigo-kun,” he said, forcing a smile into his voice. “Everything is fine.”

Ichigo pushed the door open and saw that the mystery drawer was open, and the laundry was still all over the floor.

“Kisuke?” He raised a worried eyebrow and Kisuke laughed under his breath. He really loved this man.

“Come and sit with me for a moment, Ichigo-kun.” Kisuke patted the futon beside him. “I have a story to tell you.”

 

 


End file.
